Four years ago on this day, my friend Zach Evans died in a car accident. He was just 20 years old. I remember when I heard the news, sitting in my cubicle, listening in shock as my mom told me over the phone. He was passing a slow truck on a risky turn and hit another vehicle head-on. A lapse in judgment--and then he was gone. His girlfriend and sister, both riding with him, came away with little more than scratches and sprains.
Zach was a great guy. His family had started coming to my church about six years earlier. He was a super-smart kid, one of those homeschoolers who started taking community college classes when he was 14 and scored a 34 on his ACT when he was 16. He had a contagious laugh, made friends easily, and had a nickname for everyone. He called me "Balkstie" since I have curly hair and so did the guy from the TV show "Perfect Strangers" (Balki Bartokomous). I never saw the resemblance, but neither did I mind. You knew you were a friend if you had a nickname.
Zach loved to play chess, and had the sort of infectious personality that made you want to play chess too. I remember one summer where all the guys in my group of friends bought chess boards. Then we lugged them around in our cars to whip out and play against each other when we were hanging out. Zach made up a round-robin schedule and we kept track of wins and losses. Pretty geeky--I know. We were athletic guys. Guys who wouldn't be caught dead in chess club. But he was good, super-competitive, and you wanted to beat him. I didn't do it very often, but one day I defeated him three times. In a row. That was a fluke, but I reminded him of it frequently after that. He would just good-naturedly take it in, ask me to play him again, and kick my butt.
Zach loved the St. Louis Cardinals too. Which was a pain to me, since I'm a Cubs fan. Every year he would take out a bet with my cousin John (fellow Cubs sufferer) about who would finish higher in the National League Central standings. Some years he gave the Cubs 10 games. It didn't matter--he rarely (if ever) lost that bet. And he would make sure we knew about it. A few years back, when the Cubs were one game away from the World Series, I missed having him around to give a good-natured ribbing too. Strangely enough, when they blew it, I also missed having him around to tell me how bad the Cubs are.
Zach was the first friend I've lost to death. Three grandparents have passed away, but this was different. Zach was younger than me. And he had his whole life in front of him. At the funeral, the church was filled to overflowing. I remember the singing. Maybe the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, like a taste of what will be in heaven. In spite of the sorrow, I remember a deep thankfulness descending on my soul. An appreciation for friendship and the meaningfulness of life and relationships. Zach knew his Creator, and I will see him again someday.
Two weeks before the accident, the old gang was together again at Olive Garden for supper. Zach was in town for a few days to see friends before heading back for fall semester at Wheaton. He only had a year left to graduate, and he was going to get a law degree after that. We had a great time gorging ourselves on breadsticks, bantering about sports, and catching up on life. I hadn't seen him as regularly since he left for college, so it was one of those nights where you just enjoyed hanging out again. A picture-perfect evening when all was right with the world. A fitting last time together. I wish I could go back to that night--just to hear his laugh, or argue about some new movie we disagreed about. I remember when we parted ways telling him that we needed to play chess again soon so I could teach him a lesson. He just chuckled and said: "Anytime Balkstie, anytime..."
